


Temptation

by Boywife



Series: Divine Temptations [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Added noncon warning but it's more like dubcon depending on your opinion, Alternate Universe - Priests, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Priest x Altar Boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 11:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boywife/pseuds/Boywife
Summary: Alois Trancy looks like an angel. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Claude Faustus, he is far from it. Priest x altar boy au.
Relationships: Claude Faustus/Alois Trancy
Series: Divine Temptations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741804
Comments: 15
Kudos: 63





	Temptation

_Our Father, who art in heaven,_  
_Hallowed be thy Name,_  
_Thy kingdom come,_  
_Thy will be done,_  
_On earth as it is in heaven._

_Give us this day our daily bread._  
_And forgive us our trespasses,_  
_As we forgive those_  
_Who trespass against us._

_And lead us not into temptation,_  
_but deliver us from evil._

❧

He was like a cherub, with golden locks that shined and framed his porcelain skin like an elegant, elaborate frame for the most treasured painting. Blue eyes, wide, watery and long-lashed like a doll. Pink lips that pouted and puckered, wet tongue lying between. Alois Trancy looked every bit like an angel from a renaissance painting come to life, come to spread a bit of joy to the world through his beauty.

Alois Trancy, however, was not an angel. He did not spread joy to the world at all; in fact he was mean — cruel even — in his actions. He was cruel in the way his sharp tongue stabbed at others indiscriminately; the way he’d start fights, physical or otherwise, sometimes playing victim afterward, sometimes simply sneering when chastised or punished. He had no interest in God or the church, only serving as an altar boy at the behest of his adoptive father, the Earl Trancy, a noble and an important figure in the local community.

Above all, Alois Trancy was cruel to me. Not in the ways I described above, the obvious antagonism he displayed to most anyone. No, with me he was far more insidious. Far more dangerous.

My name is Claude Faustus. I was twenty-five years old when I was ordained, and twenty-eight when I moved to this town and became a priest at the local church. The locals were friendly enough, no doubt excited about the young, handsome new priest come to serve mass for them — which included Alois, newly twelve at the time, who greeted me with wide curious eyes.

“Go on, boy, say hello. Shake his hand,” the Earl Trancy said, nudging the child forward. At once something shifted in the boy’s face, though I couldn’t pinpoint what. He smiled at me, coy in a way I didn’t know young boys could be.

“Nice to meet you, Father, I’m Alois Trancy” he said, sweet as honey and just as sticky. I held his small hand in mine and shook it gently.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my young lord,” I replied. And it truly was a pleasure, at the time.

❧

I first noticed the way he looked at me when he was about thirteen. By this time I knew that the shy, sweet boy who had greeted me that October day a year ago had been nothing but a mask, and his true face was something most hideous. Everybody in town knew of Alois’ behaviour, now including me, though he never did use that sharp tongue or spiteful tone when speaking to me directly. It was the same honey-sweet voice that greeted me before and after mass, the same big blue, oh-so-pretty eyes looking up at me innocently. But he was not innocent. I knew this.

Teasing touches were frequent, as were batting eyelashes; he’d often do things like bending over in front of me to pick up a dropped handkerchief, giving me a full display of his bottom in those tight, tight shorts. The day of the church fundraiser luncheon was both my own personal hell and heaven; he’d brought a lollipop to eat for dessert and the way he licked that sweet made me thank God and all his angels that my hardness, increasing and ever painful, couldn’t be seen through my cassock. 

I wondered if the boy knew what he was doing. He was only a child, how could he know of such erotic gestures? Gestures tempting enough to make a grown man rush to his room the first moment he found himself alone, desperately spilling into his hand?

I found the answer one day, when I walked in on him dressing after mass. One sleeve rolled up a bruise-covered arm, some fading, some fresh. At first I assumed he’d gotten himself into a fight, it would’ve hardly been a surprise, considering his typical behaviour. His reaction proved otherwise, however: it was fear. Fear and shame, followed by him immediately tugging the sleeve down.

I stared at him blankly for a minute, which was all it took for that expression to disappear from his face entirely, replaced with a smirk. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re surprised. One look at that nasty old man and anyone can tell he’s hiding some disgusting secrets, if you can even call it hiding. He knows he’s powerful enough to get away with it.”

Alois approached me slowly, slinking forward like a cat who had just found its next prey. I didn’t move, just looked at him as he came to stand right in front of me. He licked his lips, arms coming to stroke my chest, then abdomen, then ... lower. My breath hitched in my throat.

“I see the way you look at me, you know. It’s the same way _he_ looks at me.” Alois laughed, dark and bitter. “And you call yourself a priest.”

He was right. I was never one who was entirely dedicated to the faith, I had my own reasons for serving the church and none of them were noble. And though I could blame the lustful way I looked at Alois on the way he’d acted toward me, the truth was that I’d been thinking of him that way since the moment I met him. I was a priest, yes, but under cassocks and robes a priest is still a man, and man has always been weak to beauty. 

Alois’ daring excited me, the fact that he’d finally put away that honey-sweet voice he always used for me and replaced it with the venom I knew was resting just beneath his tongue. What excited me even more, however, was not his boldness, but the expression he showed me so very briefly when I had walked in on him. The vulnerability. The shame. The fear.

_Delicious._

I’d never seen Alois like that before, so small and pathetic. It filled me with an unexplainable disgust, made me want to tug his alb up and throw him over my desk, thrusting into him violently while choking the life out of him. It made me want to see him with tears pouring out of his eyes and come smeared on his belly, lips bitten raw from the pleasure and pain.

“You’re so hard,” Alois said with a laugh, his eyes dark with lust and contempt. “What a poor excuse for a priest. You’re like a rock down here, all from this fourteen-year-old kid teasing you a little. I bet I could stroke you once and you’d come buckets.” The boy snorted and pulled away, turning around. “I’d much rather have you do me than that repulsive geezer. Too bad I’m not in the mood. You’d be a terrible lay anyway, what with you being a virgin and all.”

Suddenly, the fire inside me ignited brighter than ever before. I clamped a hand over Alois’ mouth, wrapping my other arm around his waist and roughly picking him up. 

“Is that what you think I am?” I whispered in his ear as my hand muffled his screams. “I’m not a virgin, Alois. I am, as you said, however, a poor excuse for a priest.”

I hauled him into a separate room in the church, one that was deep enough in the building for no one to hear or interrupt. Alois hadn’t ceased kicking and screaming, but he was far too small and weak for it to have any effect on me. I brought the boy down onto the desk in the room, holding him against it as I shoved a handkerchief into his mouth. He was crying.

I hitched up his alb and tugged down his underwear to expose his small cock. It was smooth and as hard as mine, leaking copious amounts of precum. 

“You’re getting off on being treated like this,” I said, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. He let out a muffled wail, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

I wanted to pull off the rest of his garments and admire his body, like I’d thought of doing so often before, but there simply wasn’t time. Instead, I wrapped a hand around his cock, giving hard strokes. He moaned loudly into the cloth, eyes glazing and rolling back.

My own member was straining and begging to be tended to, so I pulled it out. Immediately, the boy’s eyes widened.

_Fear. There it was again._

“I’ll assume the Earl is of a much less intimidating size,” I said, stroking myself once, twice. Alois had stopped struggling at this point and was instead lying perfectly still apart from the rapid movements of his chest; his heart beating, his breath quick. 

He watched me silently as I began to pay careful attention to his hole, spitting on it and my hand and beginning to stretch him open. He was surprisingly loose, though then again, perhaps not _so_ surprisingly.

“Did he fuck you recently? You’re opening up quite easily down here.”

Alois looked angry, then disgusted. I pushed against his prostate and watched as that expression transformed into one of pleasure instead, his hips bucking into my hand unconsciously, cock twitching against his belly. He reached a hand down to touch himself, but I smacked it away.

“You don’t come until I say so,” I growled low, then leaned down to whisper into his ear: “And when you come, it will be on my cock.” A shudder rippled through his body at that, and I felt him melt into my hands.

_Good boy._

It had been awhile since I’d last fucked someone, and my patience was wearing thin. The boy underneath me looked delicious enough to eat; pale skin as smooth as satin that turned pink just around the edges from the exertion and pleasure, golden hair tousled and sticking to him with sweat that was as sweet as his honey voice. Eyes that were once so defiant instead staring at me with desperation, a silent plea to give him more, _more._ A blooming flower opening up just for me.

_A poisonous one._

Spitting on my length again, I lined it up with his entrance. He let out a loud cry when I finally penetrated him.

I thrusted violently, hungrily, like a starving man eating his first meal in weeks. My hands gripped his hips hard, no longer needing to hold him against the desk to prevent escape, the boy willingly met my thrusts with an eagerness exclusive to one so young. Alois was a loud one in bed, I learned: pleasure ripped through his body like a tornado, swept up everything he had inside until he was just spinning, spinning, spinning, barely aware of his surroundings, so high on the drug of desire. 

I wanted to hear him moan. I wanted to hear him _scream._

But not here. Not now.

His cock was an angry pink-red, begging to be touched, and I finally obliged. Tears poured out of his eyes and sobs wracked his body as I focused my thrusts on his prostate, pleasuring him intensely from both front and back. I could feel his climax coming on, hear it in his voice, so I let go of his cock and he cried out, “Please, please,” from behind the cloth stuffed in his mouth. His arms flailed, grasping at mine, clawing at my sleeves. 

I looked into his red watery eyes, so blown out with want, with _need,_ and came instantly. I could tell he could feel me emptying inside of him by the whine he let out, desperate to come as well, shaking his hips erratically onto my softening cock. 

After I’d given myself a moment to catch my breath, I pulled out, took the handkerchief out of Alois’ mouth, and wiped myself off.

“You should clean yourself up too.”

Alois was stunned.

“You can’t … I haven’t come.”

“I know.”

“You can’t ... you can’t just leave me like this.” His voice sounded betrayed, broken, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks again at the injustice of it all.

“I’m finished. You can touch yourself now if you like. You must want to.” I adjusted my robes nonchalantly.

Alois glared at me, but desire clouded his hate, his pride, and he began stroking himself. It didn’t take long for him to finish, spilling into his hand with a few gasps and a moan. My release leaked down his thighs.

“You know I could have you arrested. Even if what happened was consensual, which it wasn’t, it’s still illegal because I am a _child._ Forget being a priest, you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail if I wanted you to.” He grabbed the handkerchief from me and wiped himself off with a huff.

“But you don’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t want me to go to jail, Alois.”

“And what makes you say that?” The venom in his voice was seductive, intoxicating. I leaned in closer, looking Alois right in his big, angry baby-blue eyes.

“Because I won’t be able to fuck you again.”

I could feel Alois glaring at me as I walked out the door, shutting it behind me. I’d finally gotten what I’d wanted, and despite his protests, so did Alois. Doing this together had broken open a dam in both of us, and I knew whatever it was that we’d started, it wasn’t going to end soon.

It probably also wasn’t going to end well.

❧

_And lead us not into temptation,_  
_But deliver us from evil._

_Amen._

**Author's Note:**

> I could not find peace until I wrote this so here it is. I haven't been to church in 10 years so I hope this isn't too horribly inaccurate. I may write more for this AU, but I'm not sure yet ... if any of you would like to see more, lemme know!


End file.
